Penmort Castle (67 page)

James nodded
though, Cash guessed, he didn’t entirely agree.

Cash had to
admit he often wondered what the use was of Alistair’s continued
existence on the planet. However he usually had these thoughts late
at night while listening to Abby breathing in sleep at his side and
Zee’s purring as Cash stroked him at his other and found he didn’t
often dwell on them long enough to come to any conclusion.

Suddenly Cash’s
gaze sliced to Abby, his senses so attuned to her that he didn’t
need to see her to know her change in mood.

She was smiling
tentatively at something as she called, “Well?”

Cash’s eyes
moved to the door and he saw Cassandra, dressed somewhat normally
for once, strolling in.

Although no
longer having to work her questionable talents on their behalf,
Cassandra had also become a fixture in their lives. Mostly at the
many dinner parties Abby and Nicola, Jenny or Mrs. Truman held but
often simply coming ‘round to the castle to drink herbal tea or,
before Abby’s pregnancy, margaritas with Abby where they would
cackle loudly about whatever-it-was women found to cackle
about.

Cash did not
have a good feeling about Cassandra’s arrival.

“Abby,” he
muttered warningly but his wife either didn’t hear him or she
ignored him.

He was guessing
the latter.

Cassandra shook
her head and approached Abby.

Cash stood,
dropped his glasses on the chair he’d vacated and walked to his
wife.

“Someone came
up to me, mate. Asked me what I was doing. I had to abort the
mission,” Cassandra said.

“What mission?”
Cash asked a question to which he, to his intense frustration,
already knew the answer.

Abby looked up
at Cash. “I called Cassandra and asked her to come, make her way to
the delivery room and send some pixie dust Jenny’s way.”

Yes, he was
correct, he knew the answer.

“You asked
Cassandra to send some pixie dust Jenny’s way,” Cash repeated with
no small amount of consternation at his wife’s antics.

Abby looked up
at him and jerked her head, shaking back her hair in a now-familiar
act that announced her defiance.

“Yes,” she
declared.

“Fucking hell,”
Cash muttered.

“I hope you
stop saying the f-word after our baby comes along,” Abby
snapped.

“I hope you
stop doing wild and ridiculous things so I won’t feel the need to
curse after our baby comes along,” Cash returned.

Nicola emitted
a stifled giggle. Cassandra grinned.

“I am who I
am,” Abby shot back and at her words, Cash relaxed.

Then he
smiled.

“Yes, you are,”
he murmured and he watched his wife’s face take on a look of
surprise at his easy capitulation.

Then she smiled
back.

He pulled her
in his arms, she melted into his body and he felt the usual sense
of peace having her in his arms gave him.

After all this
time, nearly two years together, he’d never gotten used to the ease
she brought to his life. He also hoped he never did. If he did,
he’d lose the understanding of just what a precious gift it
was.

There was a
commotion at the door and Angus stormed in, his kilt awhirl.

“What’d I
miss?” he shouted.

“Nothing,
McPherson. We don’t have any news. Sit down and don’t be so loud!”
Mrs. Truman demanded tartly (as well as loudly).

“How many times
do I have to tell you, woman, stop ordering me about!” Angus
retorted.

“You keep
behaving like a man with a dozen screws loose, I’ll stop telling
you what to do when they’re shovelling dirt on my coffin,” Mrs.
Truman replied.

They entered a
glaring contest. Unsurprisingly Mrs. Truman won.

Angus stomped
to Cash and Abby’s circle and Cash dropped one arm, holding Abby to
him with the other.

Angus’s face
had gentled when he looked at Abby. “How’re things, lass?”

“Not good,”
Abby replied softly and Angus’s worried eyes moved to Cash.

Angus was not
exactly a fixture in their lives. He’d come and he’d go. He was, he
explained to them, quite busy with expunging the vast number of
malevolent spirits that infected the British Isles. Nevertheless
his visits, although not common, were regular.

Fortunately for
Abby and Jenny who, at that present time, needed their friends
close, Angus was working “a job” in the vicinity and using Penmort
as what he referred to as his “headquarters”.

He’d told them
over dinner the night before, the job was proving difficult.

“Well, I’ll
give you something else to think about.” Angus moved close to Abby
and his voice had grown quietly conspiratorial. “See, my new wee
ghosty has a thing against blondes. She doesn’t like anyone
particularly but she
really
doesn’t like blondes. I thought
you could –”

Cash, his voice
firm and inflexible, cut in with one word.

“No.”

Angus’s gaze
came to him. “She’ll no’ be in any danger.”

“No,” Cash
repeated.

“You know I
know what I’m doing,” Angus kept trying.

Cash clenched
his jaw then repeated yet again but even more firm and far more
inflexible, “No.”

“Fraser –”
Angus started but Cash interrupted.

“First, Abby’s
pregnant. Second, even if she wasn’t, there is no fucking way in
hell
I’d allow her to get caught up in another of your
hunts.”

“Cash,” Abby
murmured soothingly but it was Cash’s turn to ignore her.

Angus took a
step back, muttering, “No harm asking.”

“Except for the
fact you sent my blood pressure through the roof. I’d rather not
suffer a stroke five months before my child is born,” Cash
clipped.

Abby went rigid
at his side and Cash realised his mistake instantly.

His head tilted
down to her. “Darling –”

She curled into
him and her hand came to his stomach. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s
the circumstances. I’m just being stupid.”

“Don’t
apologise,” Cash bit out with irritation at himself. “What I said
was thoughtless.”

“What you said
was in anger,” she told him, leaned in, tipped her head back and
gave him a small smile. “Cash, you can’t guard against everything
you say just because I’m an overly-sensitive idiot.”

“I can try,”
Cash returned and she gave it to him, the look he saw often, the
look he had mistaken as awe the first time he saw it.

Then, it was
her burgeoning understanding that she loved him and what they had
growing between them was what she deemed “magical”.

Now, it was the
shining knowledge of the same thing.

He dipped his
head and touched his mouth to hers as her arms stole around him.
When he was done, he brushed his nose alongside hers and he watched
close up the brightness of love turn to the warmth of
contentedness.

She could wear
his diamonds and the seven hundred pound boots his money bought
her.

But Cash knew
the best thing he’d ever given her was the same peace she’d given
him.

“Conner!” he
heard Mrs. Truman call (once she’d learned his real name, she never
used anything but and also, when she was annoyed which meant quite
frequently, she addressed him by all three of his names).

Cash’s head
came up and he looked at the door.

Angus moved out
of the way and in his arms he felt Abby’s body grow solid.

Kieran stood
there looking alarmingly haggard.

Then he
grinned.

“It’s a boy.
Ten fingers, ten toes and thankfully breathing on his own,” his
relieved eyes moved to Abby, “Jenny’s fine.”

Cash took the
entirety of Abby’s weight as she sagged against him.

Then she buried
her face in his chest and he felt her body tremble with silent
tears.

Angus let out
what could only be described as a very loud “whoop”.

Cassandra
shouted, “Hurrah!”

“I need to call
Fenella and Honor,” Nicola mumbled, moving to the chair that held
her purse.

Suzanne, Mrs.
Truman and James were all standing. Mrs. Truman, to Cash’s
surprise, allowed Suzanne to hug her. Then Suzanne walked into
James’s arms which closed around her tight and she pressed her face
in his neck. James turned his head and kissed Suzanne’s temple.

Cash’s own arms
tightened around his wife.

She leaned back
and looked at him, tears wet on her cheeks. She came to her toes
and touched her mouth to his, her arms giving him a squeeze. Then
she gently pulled away, swiping at her face and moved to Kieran who
was disengaging from his own surprising hug from Mrs. Truman.

Then Abby stood
by Kieran’s side as he accepted congratulations.

Then she walked
with him hand-in-hand, gracefully moving away in her elegant
high-heeled boots to go see her friend.

Cash watched
his wife’s departure, his eyes riveted openly and without even a
hint of shame, on her exquisite ass.

* * * * *

Edith Truman
sat in the corner of Jennifer’s hospital room, her arms curved
protectively about a tiny, blanketed bundle. Her head was tilted
low, her eyes on the scrunched up, sleeping face, her mind
marvelling at the miracle.

Conner was
sitting by Jennifer’s bedside. Abigail had somewhat forcefully
declared that she was taking Kieran to get him some dinner. Kieran
had not wanted to leave and only did so when Conner assured him
he’d look after his wife.

And that was
precisely what Conner did, not leaving her side for an instant.

“Cash,” Edith’s
sharp ears heard Jennifer whisper softly.

Edith didn’t
move anything but her eyes. They’d never know she was watching
them. She saw that Conner’s head was turned to Jennifer. His hand
was resting on the bed beside hers.

From the
beginning Edith had liked Conner’s hands. They had long, tapered
fingers and were nicely veined. You could tell a lot by a man’s
hands and his were strong, capable and handsome. Three words, Edith
thought, that quite aptly defined Conner Ewan Fraser.

“Yes?” Conner
murmured in reply to Jennifer’s call.

“I want to tell
you before I tell Abby because –” Jennifer started then stopped and
Edith watched her bite her lips.

Edith was
always telling her to stop doing that but did Jennifer listen?

No
.

“What is it,
Jenny?” Conner urged softly, his words held a kindly invitation
which stated without him having to explain that she was safe to say
whatever she pleased to him.

Their
relationship had not started well. This was something, to Edith’s
annoyance, which had never been fully explained to her. However
Edith wasn’t born yesterday and she reckoned (astutely) it had to
do with Jennifer not wanting to let go of her grief for her best
friend’s first husband and Conner’s determination to be his
replacement.

Over the years
that had changed. Mainly because Jennifer adored Abigail and Conner
made Abigail blissfully happy.

Not to mention,
although Edith would never tell anyone this, Conner was a highly
likable fellow.

“We’ve named
him Benjamin,” Jennifer announced carefully and Edith guarded her
astounded reaction to this news.

Benjamin, Edith
thought, was a good enough name.

She preferred
Mortimer but that was just her.

However it was
also clear why Jennifer and Kieran had named their child thus. Both
had been close with Abigail’s first husband.

This was meant
to be a posthumous honour.

It would also
be a constant reminder to Conner of Abigail’s past, blind devotion
to her dead husband which, Edith thought irritably, wasn’t very
considerate of Jennifer and Kieran.

Edith watched
Conner who, gallantly Edith thought, didn’t show even the slightest
reaction.

However he said
with honesty and genuine warmth, as well as demonstrated it when
his hand closed around Jennifer’s, “Abby will be pleased.”

“Um,” Jennifer
went on cautiously then quickly, “actually, we’ve named him
Benjamin Conner.”

Edith felt the
air in the room go still.

She lifted her
head and didn’t even pretend not to watch openly as Conner held his
body rigid for a moment. Then he came partially out of his chair,
bent to Jennifer’s forehead and kissed her there, never taking his
hand from hers.

He sat back
down and said in a rough, low voice that explicitly betrayed
intense emotion, “Now
I’m
pleased.”

Jennifer, face
still wan and tired, smiled at him.

Edith dropped
her head to look at the baby again blinking rapidly to quell the
tears that were pricking at the backs of her eyes.

With iron
determination she succeeded in this effort.

The door opened
and Abigail and Kieran walked in.

Kieran went
directly to his wife.

Abigail smiled
at her friend then her husband then she walked to Edith.

She lifted her
hands and wriggled her fingers. “Come on, Mrs. Truman, give him
up.”

Reluctantly,
with an irate glare at Abigail to show irritation was exactly how
she felt, Edith did as she was told.

Abigail walked
slightly away, cuddled the baby close and cooed to him in a soft
voice.

Conner
approached his wife and slid his arms loosely about her body.

Kieran sat on
Jennifer’s bed and held her hand with one of his as the other
stroked her cheek.

Edith took a
mental snapshot of Kieran and Jennifer, something she’d learned to
do a long time ago in order to pull them out and savour them in her
far-less-frequent-now lonely times.

Then she looked
back at Conner and Abigail and saw his tall head bent to look at
the baby, only one arm now around his wife, the other hand was
curled tenderly and protectively at her neck.

Abigail’s eyes
went from the baby to his and she grinned.